Evanescent - By Addison Moore Page 0,40

what it might mean.

Hattie steps forward. She drops Flynn’s hand as if getting ready for a street fight.

“I’m sorry about freaking out in the kitchen earlier.” Laken clears her throat. “I thought maybe you were trying to take advantage of Flynn. He’s a good friend of mine, and I don’t want to see him get hurt. Take it easy on him, would you?”

Flynn balks at the idea. He damn well knows she’s a Fem because I told him so myself. It’s this kind of dicey behavior that highlights the fact he never should have been dragged into this to begin with. I think it’s heroic he’s trying to find his sister, but he’s more of a liability at this point. I could get Casper out of the tunnels without his help.

“You don’t have to worry about me hurting anybody, Laken,” Hattie growls. The words drill through the air more like a threat than an assurance. “I’m here to help, and once you see that, maybe you’ll trust me just a little bit more. I want my family back as much as you do.”

Flynn takes up her hand, and they speed from the vicinity as if the entire forest were about to go up in flames.

“Pearl,” I say unsure of whether or not I want to proceed. I’d much rather take Laken back to the house even if means risking a lecture from my dad. “We’re going to take you to the lab where they did this to you.”

“Ezrina,” she gurgles, sounding like an injured dog in the process.

“Yes, Ezrina. She’s going to try and fix this for you. Are you okay with that?” I take a step toward her. She’s small in stature. Her bent frame makes her look far more fragile and older than she really is. I’ve taken on Spectators twice my size before and have managed to end up on the winning side of the battle every single time. Although, all it would take is one good bite, and everything changes forever. A first generation Spectator has the ability to damn me to their unfortunate lifestyle. Wes and Laken are second gen. Laken is welcome to bite me every night of the week if she wants.

“How do we get down to the Transfer?” Laken’s chest pumps with adrenaline.

I shake my head. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you—just follow me, and trust you’ll survive.” I pull her in gently and press a kiss against her forehead. I would never hurt you, Laken. I love you.

“I trust you.” She gives a furtive nod with fear spreading wide over her features.

Can you hear me? I ask.

Laken doesn’t answer, just blinks into me while trying to control her breathing.

Looks like this might end up a magical night after all.

I was once told that hauling yourself off the Matapeake cliff was one of the most efficient entries into the Transfer as far as this end of Connecticut is concerned. That usually doesn’t work for me for two reasons, one, it’s a fifty minute drive with no traffic, and two, I’m usually hauling unwilling Spectators or their carcasses at the time. The second best way to get to that alternate dimensional plane is to run like hell into the boulders that cluster at Diamond Peak just north of the woods on campus. A clearing stems from the forest over to the colossal wall of granite, affording a nice little runway.

“When I say go, haul ass like you’ve never done before.” I give a quick wink to Laken, while pulling her in by the hand. I’ve strapped Pearl over my shoulders, cinching her ankles and wrists together with my fingers. I’ve yet to bring a Spectator to the Transfer willingly, and yet I don’t think she could keep up even if I tried to pull her.

“This is so messed up.” Laken shakes her head at the impending target as the moon sprays the stones a glorious, luminescent blue.

“Ready, go!” I shout as we cut through the clearing, the wind slices through our clothes, sharp as knives.

I catch a glimpse of Laken just shy of the boulders. She twists her face away from the prospective doom and squeezes her eyes shut tight.

The granite vibrates and hums as we enter in through the strange portal. We slip in through a warble of air, thick as syrup as we land feet-first in the slick white halls of the lab.

“It worked!” Laken pulls me into an embrace with her lips brushing over my cheek.

“We made it,”